Scarecrow Stories: Paintbrush of a Hedge-Hunter
Goblin Slavers... willing to snag Fetches and Changelings straight off the streets for a quick goblin-trade in the Hedge. Devlin had already put a pound of buckshot into the Darkling who took Suzy. Now it was time for the Vileshrieks the scumbag kept as company; he just needed to grab a few things from the apartment first: leather jacket for an extra barrier from their claws, Molotov cocktails for clearing the path, guns for eliminating any obstacles, and a heavy dose of fear to keep sated. Stupid birds neglected to cover their tracks; it didn’t take Devlin a full minute to find the trod laced with a trail of straw and feathers. A pack of briar wolves crossed the path in front of the young Hedge-Hunter, the three of them pausing to contemplate making Devlin their next meal. They shouldn’t have hesitated. The first dropped from a shot through the eye which severed his hypothalamus from the brain stem. It may have been quick, but it was far from painless. The next died from three well placed shots to the heart. The last succeeded in getting within fifteen feet of the future King before his lungs were punctured by a single round of shells. His indiscretion was punished by the wooden man leaving him to bleed out over the next few hours. Goblin fruit works miracles, but the mangled wolf would have needed a dump-truck full of it to survive the night. Further down the trail, Devlin spotted a Vileshriek circling him overhead. The cowardly thief tried to glide away from view, but a flaming cocktail from the Hedge-Hunter below burned his fragile wings away. The winged fury suffered seven broken ribs and a shattered femur on the way down. Devlin didn’t hesitate; his strong right leg was on the bird’s injured chest before it could move to stand. “That Fetch of yours is long gone, Hedge-Hunter. It’ll grab a fair price in the slave market for my brothers.... unlessssss... you let me go and I’ll show you which way they weeennttt.....?” Devlin shoved the barrel of his hedgespun shotgun down the throat of the pinned creature. “I’ve already tracked you and your dead friends this far, and the trail is far from cold. Your petty pleas for mercy fall on deaf ears, goblin.” Without blinking, the trigger was pulled, brain matter and burning flesh splattering the changeling’s face before he stepped off and continued down the trail. Devlin normally kept to the shadows, keeping out of sight to avoid unnecessary violence. These creatures, however, deserved to die. This was not a question of morality for the young Irishman. This was fact. It took Devlin another half hour to find the Vileshriek nest. There were easily fifty winged abominations there, all circling their tied-up prey. He heard his Suzy crying out his name, but he knew she didn’t know that he was there, that he could hear her pain. Between the flocks swirling around her, he caught a glimpse of her face. She was battered and beaten, her arms and legs tied behind her as she weeps on her knees. He tells himself he expected this, but it didn’t stop his rage from boiling. “You’re outnumbered Hedge-Hunter!” “And you’re outgunned.” Dempsey leveled his shotgun as the paint on his face began to burn, streaming off the wooden pallette as colored steam before sinking to the ground behind him. While the young avatar of fear fired potshots at the swarm, his Contracts set into their dark work. Splintering his mind, the paint swirled into doppelgangers of their creator. The first, a rainbow of vibrant colors, is Dempsey’s Id. The other, a homogenous mixture of pale blues, greens, and purples, is Super-Ego. Id takes the machine gun off of Dempsey’s back, Super-Ego grabbing the rifle and crouchs to steady his aim. There, in between the two, is Dempsey, the Ego, guiding them through the slaughter. Before Suzy’s swollen eyes could open wide, the blood of the Vileshriek carnage drenched them closed again. Suzy opened her eyes hours later in their normal meeting place. Devlin, her Devlin, was sitting beside her, smiling and gleaming those beautiful golden eyes of his right into her own brown ones. It would be a long while before they openly spoke of that day, but neither would ever forget the look in each other’s eyes when Suzy awoke. Characters involved in this Chronicle: Dempsey the Harvest King, Suzy Scarecrow Category:Fiction